Genealogical evidence shows that my ancestors were in the American British colonies at the time of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. My sixth great-grandfather, Major Jones, was born in Sussex County, Virginia in the early years of the republic in 1794. Records do not identify his parents, though obviously his mother was enslaved at the place of his birth, Liberty Hall.
To emphasize the context of this un-named woman in the colony of Virginia, the following demographics are helpful. In 1776, Virginia was the most highly populated of the colonies at 760,000. 40% of those people were enslaved. Among them was a young girl enslaved at Liberty Hall.
Today, I imagine what it meant for her to hear the great excitement around her that Independence from England has been declared. No doubt folks shot off fireworks, and shot cannons or muskets into the air. Celebrating FREEDOM!
White folks, some slaveowners, some not, gathered to celebrate. They were all beneficiaries of an economy built on the notion that labor from some, could be self-perpetuating and virtually free. They enjoyed meals, dance, talk and gossip about what the Declaration would mean to them. They were served drinks, fanned in the July heat, and fed meals prepared by enslaved hands. They were either ignorant, oblivious, or shockingly dismissive of the irony of celebrating their own inalienable rights to freedom while purporting to own the mind, body and soul of black bodies.
My ancestor, of so little consequence that she was unnamed in the records of her son’s birth, must have heard the cry for Freedom and briefly marveled that it could be for her. Would those who hungered for freedom for themselves ignore the cry for freedom of those that they defined and abused as chattel? For those who will push back with well-oiled notions of benevolent slavers, it should go without saying that denial to any person and their progeny of the basic human rights of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” is abusive, and warrants rebellion.
For my unnamed ancestor, she must have swallowed her expectancy, toiled on, with an eye toward the eventuality of freedom for her progeny. So today, I do not so much honor the Virginia signers of the Declaration — Jefferson, Braxton, Richard Lee, Nelson, or Wythe — but this young woman and others like her who did not give up, who lived and birthed, and toiled and hoped.
This Independence Day, I acknowledge my sacrificed grandmother and hope that she knows that her life was not in vain.